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Today I tackled a few mending projects I had waiting in the wings. Three skirts, to be exact. Two were too large, but I wanted to salvage them, and one just needed the liner to be shortened a bit (why oh why is that necessary–it should be made better in the first place).
So I went through all this effort with my most favourite of the skirts, a brown one I got years ago on a day trip with friends. I did a fantastic job, but you know what? I don’t think it’s going to fit right after all. And so now I am sad. (See my sad face?) [Amendment: After being washed, the skirt hangs perfectly! And you can't even tell I altered it, since I did such a kick-ass job. See my happy face?]
I also bought a pair of shorts for summer. And they are size 8. Yes, my friends, it’s true. I can, on occasion, wear size 8 now. God it feels great to have lost weight.
However, I have had a few people say to me to not get too skinny. Can I first say that I have never been too skinny in my life, and it might be kind of nice to have that problem? Regardless, I still feel huge. I look in the mirror or at my body, and I don’t see svelteness, but softness. Blast. (Please don’t tell me I should just work out more. First, I can’t afford the gym. Second, I hate running. Third, you never get all that great looking from just brisk walking. When I move out, I plan to do more exercise videos in the privacy of my own space… yoga, pilates, that sort of thing.)
Last week, week four of work, was great work-wise. But my introverted soul needed to be fed with more alone time than I was able to give it. And that made the week hard. I’m also wrestling with (and/or ignoring?) all kinds of real-life questions, and those take their toll.
Plus, I think my work-crush was flirting with me. But I’m not really sure. And Friday he was all sorts of weird (or I was interpreting things that way), so I don’t know. You know I’m terrible at these things. Regardless, I get ridiculously giddy at times, and it’s embarrassing. Especially if there is zero mutual interest.
I feel like a raincloud. My heart is just plain discouraged. All I wish for is the semester to be over, and thankfully, I only have two finals left.
I realized something today: I don’t feel safe with Christians, and especially not Christian men. That is something of a problem.
How can I escape this conundrum I find myself in?
And does it matter if I finish my masters? What if I never write my thesis and never get my degree? Will that hinder me in life? What if I can’t finish due to circumstances beyond my control? Do I need another useless degree?
A friend and I brainstormed today what my passions are, but we realized neither of us knows where to look for a job that would use those passions.
It’s a sad day, but maybe tomorrow will get better.